Fatigue
by hyperpsychomaniac
Summary: After more than a thousand years the search is starting to take its toll on Balthazar Blake. And he hasn't had a hint of a potential Prime Merlinian in years. When a potential candidate finally comes into his orbit Balthazar is more than ready for this to be the One, but another failure may be more than he can handle...
1. Chapter 1

A thousand years was a long time. But a focus was what kept you from descending into madness. Balthazar's was his search for the Prime Merlinian. His search had carried him across continents. The vast distances he'd had to travel had never bothered him. But that child could also be located anywhere across the vast stretches of time.

Time was a funny thing. Balthazar had started thinking of it as a spatial landscape; it was the only way to logically keep track of things. If you lived seventy years a place only changed so much. Stretch it out to a thousand and civilizations rose and fell, a single point in space could undergo any number of changes. And his travels meant he had seen a lot of places. At first, it had been arduous. Decades would pass between leads. Then there were the failures. So many potential candidates, but Merlin's ring had rejected them all. A number of times Balthazar had run a diagnostic spell on the ring, plagued by the thought that the blasted thing had somehow broken. Deep down he'd known it was far too powerful a device for that to happen in a mere millennium. At first he'd blamed himself for these failures, but even this thought had faded with the years. What was he, an immortal sorcerer, but still a man constrained by the bonds of time to do, if the object of his search lay at the far reaches of the future? All he could do was cross those distances as he had trudged across the distances of Europe and Asia, and of more recent times America. Only no beast of burden or construct of man could speed his journey. Neither magic nor its close cousins science and technology had found a way to do this, as yet.

The only solace was the illusion that time sped up as he grew older. Years became a small fraction of his total existence and at times he would find himself wondering where an entire decade had gone. But men rarely lived a thousand years. No one that had, it seemed, had bothered to record that at some point this apparent law of nature became inverted. For the last hundred years or so, with barely a hint of any potentials, those years had dragged.

Time was indeed a funny thing, but Balthazar could no longer appreciate the joke.

With a frustrated sigh he slammed the cover to the thick folder of loose leaf paper on his desk. Half of its contents were already strewn in a semi-circle about the desk, dismissed as useless. Balthazar had recently procured a large number of birth and family records from the local authorities. One small blessing from the passing of time was the improvement of the systems used to store this sort of information, and legislation requiring it actually being kept in the first place. And it was easy to access for a thousand year old sorcerer. The authorities would probably be upset about his treatment of the documents, but they would never know he had them. The originals were still in place; Balthazar had used a spell to create these copies. This had required a great deal of energy. There had been microfilm copies, but taking those meant more work when he got back to the shop to read them. He still preferred paper. With any luck technology would soon come up with something that wouldn't require he waste so much energy on so trivial a task.

Technology in itself did not add much to his current frustrations. It was, again, the time issue. Near a century had passed now with nothing near a solid lead. Oh, he'd paid a few visits to children on vague hunches, as well as semi-regular visits to a few of the local orphanages (whilst mankind had largely improved on its stewardship of children, they still had a tendency to drop off the unwanted and this, in Balthazar's experience, had on occasion included those with magical abilities). But that was still a long shot. With the passage of time, recently accompanied by the rigorous and accelerating pace of science and technology, the concept of magic and of sorcerers had become outdated. No one believed in them anymore, and whilst their existence did not hinge on the belief of the masses, it made it a hell of a lot more difficult to seek out anyone who would help, or those potential Merlinian's themselves. The irony was that as mankind roared towards the ability for the common man to actually access magic, or at least have machines and devices that would do this for him, they completely dismissed the notion. The conversion of steam to power, the harnessing of electricity, all of these were things a sorcerer could do with the wave of a hand. Now it was a common thing. But this was apparently the realm of science; magic was dead.

All of which led to Balthazar Blake in some run down little shop, pouring through records rather than trudging across deserts, and he was still getting nowhere!

With a snarl he tossed what remained of his 'reject' pile onto the floor, stood to his feet, and let the building internal energy that had been sending his hands shaking into his ring and out into physical realm. It emerged as a small, but unexpected, plasma ball which danced across the shop and exploded with a pop against a shelf, tossing a few books to the floor in a flutter of pages. "Dead indeed…" he muttered, one eyebrow raised at the sudden disarray. Then he gritted his teeth. An involuntary plasma ball was one of the most basic of indicators of a wandering mind, something liable to earn him a cuff up the back of the head from Merlin, when the man had still been alive. Of course it was something he'd learned to control early on. Apparently, something was slipping.

"You seem to be getting grumpy in your old age."

Balthazar whirled at the voice; he should have detected an intrusion into the store instantly. There were a number of spells on the entrance that would cause an unwelcome visitor a nasty fright; a customer (annoying things) would have simply set off an alert that would let Balthazar know they were here. But much like the far more low-tech instalment of the bell above the door, these required that he was paying some amount of attention.

"Maggie…" he let out a huff of air as he recognised the woman standing just within the store's entrance. She was young, as Balthazar measured age, barely seventy years old he recalled, referencing back to his mental time-map. And yet her features were deep set in wrinkled skin and her hair a not unpleasant shade of grey. She still managed to pull off a fairly simple and almost business suit looking grey dress; this accented by a splash of red in the hat she wore at an odd angle perched atop her hair. A sorcerer herself, she could have worn anything she wanted, but fitting in being a priority he suspected she'd gone with what someone like her could be expected to afford. There were far worse women's fashions Balthazar had seen over his many years, not to mention some of the men's. It was something he'd stopped logging in the time-map years ago, although he usually made an effort to know what was currently acceptable. Not doing so sometimes led to… issues.

"Does that happen a lot?" Maggie was staring at the blast mark on the edge of the bookshelf.

"What…?" Balthazar glanced back over his shoulder. Of course, she'd seen his moment of weakness. "No. Not recently…" It you didn't count last week as recent. He turned his back to her and moved to pick up the two books that had toppled, giving himself a few precious moments to hide his fluster.

His hands were still shaking, the blast had done nothing to reduce the pent up energy. He'd been sitting at that desk for over fifteen hours, if his internal clock wasn't cracking up as well as his energy control. He'd spent the previous six actually getting a hold of the documents.

"Do you need a hand with that?"

"No!" he snapped, a little more harshly than he'd meant to. He gritted his teeth again, placed the books back in their rightful place, and drew in a breath. "Maggie, sorry. I've been busy. Here, let me get you a chair." He moved back to the desk and lifted the high-backed one he'd been using over and helped the woman into it.

She was strong for her age, well, for her current state of aging. At least, that was what Balthazar remembered when he'd last spoken with her. As he helped her into the chair he could feel her sink into as if it was a relief, and she'd seemed perhaps the slightest bit shaky as she'd moved across the room. It didn't surprise him, only sadden him. This was the one aspect of aging the thousand year old man had yet to experience.

"Just give me a minute…" He hurried into the next room to grab another chair. He paused on his way out, and with a flourish brought together a tea pot and a few stray tea cups. Another flourish sent a splash of water into the teapot and there was no issue with vibrating the molecules of the water in an instant. He emerged barely seconds later with the tea tray floating obediently behind him. Now that had managed to expel some energy and when he set it down in front of Maggie her smile was enough to make him feel just a little bit calmer.

"Now if only I'd found someone with your manners when I was younger," Maggie said with a faint smirk as she took one of the tea cups.

Balthazar felt the slightest smile tug his lips as he settled himself in his own chair. He was long beyond that sort of comment making him uncomfortable, which was a good thing, considering he was already frustrated and flustered from the night's efforts.

Which was of course exactly what Maggie chose to direct his thoughts back to. "So have you found anything?" she asked, lifting the edge of one of the documents still valued enough to earn a position on the desk top.

Balthazar sat back up straight, trying to hide his tension. Well, he had a job to do. There was no point sitting around sipping tea just because he hadn't gotten enough sleep. He'd done the calculation. He'd probably wasted three to four hundred years sleeping over his lifetime. It wasn't something he valued much anymore, though he was starting to wonder if he should. Surely it was only the lack of sleep that was contributing to his wandering mind and short temper of late.

"No. This is all useless. It used to be so much easier…" he bit down on the sentence, fearing he'd launch into a rant that would only make his fluster more apparent.

"Don't stress," Maggie said, placing a hand lightly on his across the desk. "The search is what I came to talk to you about. I didn't think you'd get far with all this paper based research."

"It seems to be the only thing that works anymore."

Maggie knew about his search for the Prime Merlinian. Balthazar had established she was trustworthy years ago and procured her assistance. Of course, among the Merlinians (and unfortunately the Morganians) the prophecy was well known, as was the name of Balthazar Blake. The belief in this ever coming to pass had faltered though; Balthazar had found too many, even among the Merlinians who scoffed at the idea of prophecy. Which of itself was simply a statement of probabilities, eventually the right combination of DNA and environmental factors would come together and the Prime Merlinian would come into existence. It was only a matter of time, Balthazar's old friend. Maggie was one of the few he'd found recently who'd been willing to help.

"I think I've found a lead," she said. "Balthazar, are you listening?"

Balthazar blinked at her dumbly. "I… pardon?"

"I've found a lead."

He'd heard her right the first time. It was just that this was one of the last things he'd expected her to say. "You… so soon?"

"I've been helping you for twenty years, Balthazar."

"Of course," Balthazar leaned back in his chair, drew in a breath. He didn't want to argue the relativity of how short a couple decades really were. Or seemed. In reality everyone else experienced time in the right way and he was the odd one out. "But you're sure? What have you found?"

"A girl. She's currently an apprentice to one of the Merlinian's I know."

"Who?"

"Albert Spencer…"

Balthazar nodded. "Charming fellow. I remember trying to explain to him the prophecy… you know, you can always tell the intelligence of a man by what he laughs at."

"He's not that bad. I've spoken with him. He recognises his apprentice is gifted. It took a bit of convincing, but he can't see the harm of his protégé trying on a ring."

Balthazar stared at her across the desk for a moment. "And you're sure?"

"You've told me what to look for, Balthazar. I wouldn't have come to you if I wasn't sure. You've been out of contact for ages, I can only assume you've been busy…" she glanced at the mess off paper strewn about the floor. "Why else wouldn't you come see me for months on end?"

Balthazar felt a brief jerk of realisation as he again consulted his time-map. Maggie was his closest associate at this time, and she was right, it had been nearly a year since he'd consulted with her. An apology died on his lips, there just wasn't an excuse he could think of. "Maggie," he said instead, "thankyou. You don't realise how hard I've searched for this…"

"It's just a lead…"

"It's more than I've had in over a century." Balthazar stood to his feet. He was again feeling a rush of energy, but this time he had an outlet. A focus. Doubts had crept in over recent years, even if they hadn't halted him in his purpose. The lead brought fresh excitement and hope. "Let's go now." He reached out a hand and grasped Maggie's. He tugged her gently to her feet.

Keeping his pace in check out of respect for the frailer woman, he led her down the steps of the shop and out into the sunshine, searching as he did so for a cab.

"What?" he asked, catching Maggie smiling up at him.

"I haven't seen you grin like that in years. It looks good on you, Balthazar."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/n: **So I'm kind of taking a bit of a break from writing some of the original stuff I'm doing at the moment. Thought I'd poke a bit of fanfiction and as I'd just watched the Sorcerer's Apprentice recently this popped into my head. Please review if you've got the time!

* * *

Albert Spencer's residence was across the city. During the journey there Balthazar felt his anticipation building. His mind was churning over at a million miles an hour. The fact there had been barely a hint of the Prime Merlinian over the last century surely meant that if something, someone, turned up now they must be close to the right combination of factors. The calibre of sorcerers had waned over the years, and whether that was due to the changing state of man's opinion of magic Balthazar couldn't be sure, but a potential existing in this time surely had a greater chance than ever before of being the Prime Merlinian.

In reality, it was useless going over these things in his mind. He'd done so before, but the only thing that could truly tell whether he'd found the one was Merlin's ring. At least this was a fairly easy test to administer.

Balthazar caught Maggie giving him a look like she could sense his agitation, and drew in a breath to calm himself. Fidgety was not an image he cared to promote, even in front of Maggie. He still had some pride. Instead, he turned his thoughts to Veronica. It was not something he did often, and he'd tried to keep those thoughts to a minimum over the past hundred years. It distracted. And if he thought of her when he didn't have any leads, it depressed him. But thinking of her now he could not help but smile faintly. If they found the Prime Merlinian he would be that much closer to releasing her. The Grimhold was no place for such a beautiful strong woman, the woman he loved. He would have locked himself in there in an instant instead, but he knew there was no way he could have pulled off that fusion spell at the time. Veronica was more skilled than he was. It would have been better if she were out here, searching for the Prime Merlinian. But then, of course, she'd have to contend with the thousand year wait. Briefly, Balthazar wondered if a prison frozen in time was the better option. Perhaps he had experienced the greater pain. It had broken his heart to lock her in there, but there had been no other option. But his reunion with her was being brought ever closer, even as the cab they were in neared their destination. Balthazar let himself think of her finally in his arms again, a rare indulgence, he hadn't dared to allow himself for, literally, ages.

"You're a strange man, Balthazar."

"What?"

"You're smiling to yourself again," Maggie shook her head.

He hadn't told Maggie about Veronica. Only the Prime Merlinian and Morgana. Sharing about Veronica was an even rarer occurrence than allowing himself to think of her. If they found the Prime Merlinian today, perhaps he would consider telling her. "You know how important this is. I'm glad we're finally getting somewhere."

The cab pulled up outside Spencer's apartment and Balthazar fished in his coat pockets for cash to pay the driver. Using magic to pull some out of nowhere would have been a snap but it wasn't something Balthazar liked doing, especially with the economy what it was at the moment. A few dollars wouldn't have much effect but if you started cutting corners on the small things there was nowhere to go but downhill. That task done, he helped Maggie out of the cab and up the few stairs to the front door.

Before they could knock a red headed man of about forty opened up. His appearance surprised neither of the two sorcerers; it was a common thing for their kind to have an alarm spell set up to alert them of visitors and unwanted guests. Maggie catching Balthazar off guard earlier was the exception, not the norm.

"Maggie, so nice to see you again," the man said as he clasped the hand of the older woman warmly. He gave Balthazar a curt nod. "Blake."

"Spencer," Balthazar said. He returned the greeting in the same curt manner. A part of him wondered briefly why he let this kid rile him so much. But then, he _was_ having a bad century.

"Maggie tells me you're still on that Prime Merlinian thing?"

"The 'thing' is still a priority, yes," Balthazar said as he supressed a sigh. At least he was in a better mood than before. If at the end of this he knew who the Prime Merlinian was, he could put up with this man for now.

Spencer nodded and then stepped aside from the door frame. "Well, come in then. I'll see whether we can accommodate your little test…"

"Albert," Maggie gave the man a chiding glare. "I thought we agreed on this already."

"I just want to have a conversation first, that's all," Spencer shot her a smile as he led her by the hand through the door. "After all, you both know my thoughts on this thing. I have to ensure Blake here isn't going to put any strange ideas into my niece's head. She's still just a child."

Balthazar had been hanging his coat on a peg in the entrance hall, seeing as Spencer hadn't bothered to take it as he was spending all his attention on Maggie, and he started at the man's words. "Wait, I thought you said she was his apprentice?" he said to Maggie.

"She is," said Spencer cautiously.

"It's probably best not to mix family and apprenticeships…"

"Oh, is this one of those outdated ideas of yours? For God's sakes man, it's the twentieth century!" He glanced briefly at Maggie. "Sorry."

"It's just not necessarily a very good idea…" Balthazar muttered.

"Well, I'll tell you what," said Spencer with a mirthless smile, "if that ring works you can be my niece's master and then there won't be any problem."

So Spencer was convinced the test would fail. Well, apart from the end of his millennium long search, Balthazar could look forward to seeing that smile wiped off the man's face.

They sat down in the living room. Maggie and Balthazar took the three seater sofa and Spencer flopped into the single seat across from them. "So," the man began, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back in his favourite chair, "just to get this straight… you've got this ring. All you want to do is put it on her, and that will tell you if she's this Prime Merlinian?"

"I've explained the prophecy to you before, Spencer," Balthazar growled.

"I know. I just want to make sure how much of that you're going to tell Sophie."

"I don't have to tell her much, just get her to try the ring…"

"She'll ask questions," Spencer said with a genuine smile. "She's a smart kid."

Balthazar let out a sigh, not bothering to try and conceal his frustration. He knew Spencer was just stringing him along. Why a couple extra minutes was causing him so much annoyance he didn't know. He'd been at this for so long; it shouldn't upset him so much. The last century must have gotten to him more than he realised. "Okay," he drew in a deep breath. "You've already started some training with her, yes?"

Spencer nodded.

"And she's already got her own ring?"

Spencer nodded again. "And showing potential."

"So I'll just tell her this is a special ring and it'll let us know if she's just as special."

Spencer chewed his lip for a moment, and then shrugged. "Okay, sounds fair. Just leave out all the garbage about prophecy for now; all you've got to do is get her to put it on. No funny stuff!"

Balthazar nodded. "Deal. Where is she?"

Spencer looked over his shoulder and shouted out. "Sophie! I left her practicing with the cat…"

Balthazar raised an eyebrow, but this time was able to stop himself making comment on the wisdom of practice with the family pet. There was a crash and a ball of orange fur shot past, quickly followed by a small girl of about six or seven. "Timmy!" Sophie called after the escaping feline.

"Sophie," said Spencer, quickly arresting the girl's attention. "I think Timmy has had enough practice for today. We've got guests."

Sophie smiled sheepishly and made her way into the living room. Frizzy orange hair framed her freckled face. She was a little shy, not yet quite making eye contact, but didn't attempt to hide or hang back. "Hi, Maggie…" she grinned when she saw the woman.

"Hello, Sophie. Have you been practising the spells I showed you?"

"Yes, when I can get Timmy to cooperate that is…" She directed her attention to Balthazar.

"And this is the infamous Balthazar Blake," Spencer said. "He's a friend of Maggie's."

Sophie eyed him a little suspiciously. "Hi, Mr Balthazar…"

If there was anything that could dissipate Balthazar's growing agitation this little girl was it. Not only because she had the potential to end his search in no longer than a few short minutes. "Balthazar will be just fine, sweetheart," he said, unable to hide a smile.

He glanced across at Spencer. The man was leaning ever so slightly forward, hand on his chin, and watching his niece intently. He caught Balthazar's gaze, and gave the slightest nod. He seemed happy for Balthazar to do his thing, provided he didn't mention the 'p' word. Suddenly Balthazar doubted the man's intent in letting him come today was purely to ridicule him; some small part of him wanted to see the outcome of this test too. It was interesting to note, especially considering his derision of the concept when they'd first met.

"I actually came to meet you, Sophie. I've got something I want to show you."

Sophie's sheepish smile brightened ever so slightly. "Yeah?"

Balthazar dug around in his pants pockets. "Now where did I put it?" He made a show of searching, much to Sophie's amusement. "Ah…" Balthazar reached out his right hand, palm up, then closed his hand into a fist. When he opened it again Merlin's dragon ring sat dormant in his hand. "There it is."

Sophie smirked and raised an eyebrow. She was unimpressed. "I've got one of those too, you know."

"Yeah?"

Sophie held up her right hand fingers spread, and passed her other hand around it with a flourish. A ring appeared on her right index finger. "Mine kind of looks like a pretty star though, not a lizard."

"Ah, but it's not a lizard," Balthazar said. "It's a dragon ring. It's kind of like yours, but it's a special ring. I want you to try it on. It'll tell me whether you're special too."

He'd aroused her interest again. She eyed the ring in his open hand suspiciously. "What kind of special?"

"It…" a brief glance at Spencer caught him still intent on his niece. Balthazar continued. "It lets people know you're going to be a really good sorcerer one day. Other sorcerers will respect you more. Timmy might be more inclined to help you out with your practicing too."

Sophie chewed her lip briefly, as if this was some kind of monumental decision. She had no idea how much it was. "Okay…" she said eventually and slipped off her own ring. She held out her hand expectantly.

Balthazar tipped the ring into her hand. It tumbled into her palm, rocking slightly from the momentum and then came to rest. It stayed dormant. Nothing.

It had happened any number of times before. Balthazar always took a deep breath, centred himself, moved on. Only this time he just found himself staring at the ring in the little girl's hand, willing it to move.

Spencer let out a huff, moving his hand from his chin up to cover his eyes and shook his head.

"Is it supposed to do something?" Sophie asked.

Balthazar's throat was dry. "Try… try putting it on."

She did so, holding her palm up to the light and studying the silent dragon. "Does it suit me, Uncle Albert?" Sophie turned so that she could display it to him.

Spencer frowned. "Hmm, not sure honey. Looks a little masculine to me."

Sophie nodded her agreement. "I think I like mine better." She turned back to Balthazar. "You can keep the dragon, Balthazar. I don't think it suits me." She placed it back in his upturned palm, oblivious to the man's vacant stare and frozen limbs.

"Well," Spencer leaned back into his chair. "That's that then. Sophie, go and play with Timmy. I need to talk to Maggie and Balthazar a little more."

The little girl stomped across the room in the way that only children could, and disappeared into the back of the house shouting: "Timmy!"

Balthazar had sometimes spent years trying to find one particular potential, only to find out they were not the one. Yet this failure, the potential whom he'd only found out about hours ago, had stalled his sharp mind. Of course, that wasn't counting the almost century he'd waited for something solid. Somehow he'd let himself hope too much after so long.

"Balthazar," Maggie's voice finally cut into his thoughts; she'd called his name more than once. "Are you okay?"

He became aware, suddenly, of the woman's hand resting on his sleeve. The touch startled him and he jerked away. "I thought you said you were sure?"

"I said it was a lead; I was as sure as I could be. And there's no harm done letting her try on that ring."

"No harm?" Spencer snorted. "Not for Sophie, no. But how much time have you wasted trying to find this Prime Merlinian? Not all of us are immortal, Blake!"

Balthazar felt the tension he'd been fighting off begin to build yet again, his hands shook and he balled them into fists. "Have I cut into your schedule, Spencer? You've got some place to be?"

"I haven't talked to him yet, Albert," said Maggie. "Just let off a bit, okay?"

Spencer shook his head. "No. Don't act like this is some big disappointment, Blake, I don't see how you could expect anything less. I can't believe I let myself get dragged into this."

"There is a prophecy and it is going to be fulfilled, I just have to be there to make sure… it happens…" The shake had started to invade his voice. Balthazar bit down on his words, dropping his head as he tried to regain some composure.

"You know I get the whole probability thing? But I'm not a gambling man, Blake. There might be some small chance every tiny little factor is going to line up and you're going to get your Prime Merlinian. But you know what? If you keep Morgana in that prison she's not going to destroy the world. So keep her there! The Prime Merlinian is a lame horse and I'm not betting on it!"

"Are you done now, Albert?" Maggie growled.

"I don't see why you're wasting your energy on him. Are you scared of him? Tell him what he's costing…"

If it wasn't hard enough to understand the inexplicable breakdown of every technique he'd ever learned to control himself, the drone of Spencer's voice was somehow an even greater annoyance. "Shut. Up." Balthazar threw his hand up with barely a thought. Spencer's prattle was immediately, and mercifully, cut short.

There was any number of ways a sorcerer could choose to silence an opponent. The more inane included temporarily paralysing the vocal chords, or simply deadening the sound waves the moment they left the source. Instead, Balthazar realised as Maggie let out a gasp, he'd chosen to cut off the man's air supply entirely.

Spencer blinked in shock, one hand going to his throat as his mouth moved open and shut like a fish out of water. His distress was short-lived, as Maggie hastily waved her hand and undid the spell. Spencer drew in a gasp.

"Balthazar! You need to calm down!" Maggie snapped.

Despite the sluggish pace of his mind, Balthazar could figure this out for himself. He didn't just go around throwing spells that could kill someone if not properly removed. Not usually. He stared at Spencer, searching for words.

Despite his brief choking spell Spencer found some first. "You come into my house, and use magic on me?! Get out of here, Blake!"

It seemed like a good enough option. Balthazar rose to his feet and made for the door, grabbing his coat on the way out. He paused outside the front door, still not quite ready to navigate the few stairs, and let the fresh air help ground him in the now.

"Balthazar…"

Maggie had followed him. She leaned on the railing near him to steady herself. It looked as if she'd pushed herself to catch up to him, but Balthazar was unable to feel any pity for her. He was still too angry at both her and Spencer. "I thought you said you were sure?" he growled. He'd said it before, but at least now he was more certain of keeping the tremor out of his voice.

"I know!" Maggie sighed. "And I'm sorry if I've upset you…"

"I'm not upset."

"… but isn't this something you do all the time? Get children to try on the ring? Any child… it's hardly a waste of time."

"It's hardly that simple…" Balthazar snapped. He ignored the part of his mind that told him that was actually a fairly accurate description of what he had been doing of late.

"I was as sure as I could be," Maggie continued. "It was as good a bet as any…"

She trailed off, and Balthazar said nothing. He was struggling to control his thoughts. Why had he let himself think so long on Veronica earlier?! He'd known it would compromise his objectivity, but he'd been stupid enough to think of her anyway.

"Perhaps I did jump the gun," Maggie continued with a sigh. "But there's something else I wanted to tell you today. I had just hoped it could be done on a happier note, with the discovery of the Prime Merlinian. Perhaps that hope clouded my judgement."

Balthazar barely heard her. Veronica. She had to stay in that Grimhold for who knew how much longer. He didn't know when he would see her again or be able to hold her in his arms. Stop thinking! It had never been this hard.

"But not finding the Prime Merlinian is not the end of the world. The Grimhold will stay locked…"

"Don't you get it!?" Balthazar snapped. "I can't get her out without the Prime Merlinian!" His fist pounded into the railing beside him and sent the metal ringing.

Maggie started at the sudden movement. "But Morgana can't cause any harm in there. Have you considered that Albert may be right? At least consider what he said…"

"You suggest I give up?" Balthazar drew in a breath. He still could not quite grasp why his control was slipping. But he knew he'd had enough and just wanted to accomplish… something. He'd had a chance, but failed. Again. And he still couldn't tell Maggie about Veronica, even if it might help her understand his agitation. If simply thinking of the woman he loved was causing him this much grief, he wasn't sure what might happen if he spoke those thoughts aloud. And he was still too angry with Maggie to allow her this insight.

"No."

"You should have made sure… "

"Damn, it Balthazar!" Maggie snapped. It was enough to drag Balthazar out of thoughts of Veronica, if only momentarily, simply because Maggie never swore. "I didn't have the time!"

"Time's overrated. I wouldn't worry too much about that."

"Balthazar…" Maggie let out a sigh and leaned back against the railing. She put a hand to her head. "I don't have the energy for this."

Evidently, Spencer had been listening in on their conversation, because he opened the front door at that moment. He stepped out and took Maggie's arm. "I really think you should go, Blake."

"Albert…" Maggie growled. "I'm fine. I haven't finished yet."

"No," Balthazar drew himself upright. "But I have. I hope you two have a good laugh when I'm gone." He turned and stomped down the steps.

"Where are you going?" Maggie called after him. "I wanted…"

"I'm going to throw some magic around; maybe it'll make me feel better!" Balthazar shouted back over his shoulder. He didn't care that the whole street could hear; it wasn't like any of them believed in magic anyway.

"Leave him…" was the last thing he heard from Spencer as he trudged down the street.

Balthazar swung his coat around his shoulders. He knew he couldn't really go and 'throw magic around'. He was still thinking straight enough for that at least. What he should have done was go and just sit down and try some of the techniques to calm his mind. But he'd already tried half of these back at Spencer's place. He couldn't be sure any further attempts would be successful. And if he sat still he'd think of Veronica.

Balthazar didn't want to do this the right way; he just wanted to shut down those thoughts completely, even if it was only for a few hours. The easiest way to accomplish this worked just as well to dull the mind of a sorcerer as it did for any ordinary man. Thank God prohibition had been repealed but a few years earlier. With his coat billowing around him Balthazar stomped off in search of a good, stiff drink.


	3. Chapter 3

The faint patter of raindrops on metal woke him. For a moment, Balthazar could not for the life of him remember where he was. Or why he had such a splitting headache. He opened his eyes, squinting in the daylight. Yes, it was drizzling and overcast, but still a little too bright. Balthazar blinked a few times. He remembered walking into a bar and ordering a vodka. And after that, another one. And then… a jumble. Wonderful. Balthazar hadn't drunk himself unconscious in centuries.

He tried to focus on where he was. An automobile; the driver's seat. The steering wheel was right in front of him and he ran a hand over it, partially in admiration, but mostly confusion. He most certainly did not remember acquiring the car. Good Lord, what had possessed him?

And then he remembered. The events at Spencer's place. The dragon ring. The failure. Everything he'd been trying to forget with what was supposed to have been just one or two drinks settled back upon him, as if he'd never had the unmemorable reprieve. Balthazar's shoulders slumped; he sunk back into his seat and let out a faint moan.

"Fantastic. Back to reality, then…"

Too true, Balthazar thought, but it wasn't he who had uttered those words. He glanced across at the passenger seat. The man who sat there looked a dishevelled and tired; he was blond, perhaps in his mid-thirties. Balthazar couldn't remember acquiring him either. Unable to piece together a timeline of the last few hours, he asked the only problem currently on his mind that the man might be able to help solve. "Please tell me this is your car?"

The other man groaned and pushed himself upright in his seat. "Um… no… but that, yes, that I do remember. You bought it. Pulled out a wad of cash likes of which I've never seen… don't know what reason you've got to be drinking if you can throw around money like that."

Balthazar groaned again. So much for not interfering with the economy.

"Hey, if you can afford it, good for you…" The man extended a hand. "Percy. I guess we've already met, but unfortunately that's not something I remember… like most of last night."

"Balthazar…" the sorcerer replied automatically, thought he didn't reach out to shake the man's hand.

Percy didn't seem particularly offended. "You've got a job, I assume? Lucky bastard. I haven't had a job in almost a year. My wife won't stop not nagging me… not her fault…" he shook his head. "I should be able to get one, but I can't! How am I supposed to support my family?" He let out a sigh and rubbed a hand across his stubbled chin. "Sorry, I've probably said all this before…"

How could he have let himself go and get a car without even remembering? If he'd thought he was losing control, now there was no doubt. The alcohol certainly didn't help, but it wasn't like he'd had to go and do that either. "I'm going to have to take it back," said Balthazar.

Percy held up his hands. "I wasn't having a go. Sorry, ignore me. Jeesh, if you're going to have a mid-life crisis and pick up a Rolls Royce Phantom, go for it."

"Mid-life…" Balthazar repeated the word and let out a brief laugh. He'd lived twelve hundred years. If he had to go through another thousand… He knew what that was like. Thinking of that period of time; having to trudge through that, again. The laugh died on his lips and he stared out the windshield. Oh God. Could his mind even handle that?

"What about you?"

Balthazar didn't want to voice what was going on in his mind right now. He didn't even want to think it. He pushed it down and grasped at something, anything, that could possibly distract. "You… have a family?" he asked Percy.

"Yeah. I know what you're thinking; they must be worried sick," Percy said sheepishly. "But there's only so much I can have my kids just looking at me and I know I'm failing them…"

"You're going to watch your kids grow up and they'll watch you grow old. And you'll probably die before they do."

Percy stared at him. "Jeesh, thanks for the pick me up…" he paused. "Did… did you lose a kid?"

"No," Balthazar sighed. It wasn't helping. Talking to this man was only unsettling him more. And in his current state he didn't really want to go talking to some civilian and letting something slip. He started the car. "Can I drop you off somewhere, Percy?"

"Okay, if you don't want to talk… it's not like we have to be friends or anything…"

"I don't have any friends."

Luckily, that seemed to shut down the man's chatter. Percy didn't really say much after that, except to direct Balthazar to a street corner a short distance away. He stepped from the vehicle with a bit of a stumble. That left Balthazar to try and figure out what he was supposed to do now.

He needed to return the car. That was supposing he could figure out where it had come from in the first place. Simply deduction could work this out, but Balthazar's mind kept wandering. To thoughts of Veronica, to his search for the Prime Merlinian. To everything he could remember before he'd gone for that blasted drink. His head was still pounding but at least this was starting to clear. And give way to the thoughts. He wasn't sure which would be worse.

He didn't really know what he and Percy had gotten up to, apart from the car. It was already late afternoon, and the weather was getting worse, the rain heavier. They'd probably slept a large part of the day. He thought back to Spencer's house. Spencer he couldn't care less about, but somehow he could now see that perhaps he had been a little harsh with Maggie. There were no doubts that she had truly thought she was directing him to the Prime Merlinian. Balthazar gritted his teeth. He was muddled enough as it was, it was foolish to let the one person he was closest to at this point in time (and who wasn't locked in the Grimhold for the foreseeable future) think he'd had enough of them. He still knew he couldn't tell Maggie about Veronica. But God knew he needed her help to find the Prime Merlinian, especially taking into account the current state of his mind.

Balthazar got his bearings (still a little fuzzy from the remaining alcohol in his system) and drove to Maggie's apartment. He jogged from the verge to the door to escape the rain and headed up. As he reached the door to her apartment, he paused. What was he to say? An apology might be a good start. Balthazar drew in a breath and knocked.

There was no answer, and suddenly Balthazar felt something was wrong. Sure, she could be out, but… The sudden apprehension was enough to momentarily hold back his wandering thoughts, and Balthazar cleared his mind. He could sense the active magical energy in close proximity to himself. Like most sorcerers, Maggie would normally have at least some low level spells active on her front door to detect intruders. Currently he could detect none. And something had disturbed the residual energy that would have been left in the place had Maggie simply been absent. Like something had been there, and then was not. An implosion of sorts. Balthazar had detected these before. "Maggie!" he called out, and threw his shoulder into the door.

The door was already unlocked and opened easily. Balthazar didn't pause to wonder why this might be, but rushed into the apartment. He crossed the small living area, making a beeline for Maggie's bedroom. The place from where he'd sensed the 'implosion'.

When he entered he saw almost exactly what he expected to see. Yet it still caused Balthazar to draw a brief intake of breath. He swallowed hard and moved to the bedside. Maggie was tucked up tightly as if someone had carefully put her there. Balthazar reached out a hand and felt the inside of her wrist, but as he expected there was no pulse.

"You know, I think she intended to tell you."

The voice startled him nowhere near as much as it should have. Balthazar glanced up to see Spencer standing in the doorway to the bedroom. He must have been in the apartment already. But Balthazar had been concentrating on sensing Maggie, and he'd moved through so quickly on his way to her bedroom that he hadn't noticed the other man.

"Not that you gave her much chance, you threw such a temper tantrum…"

"Tell me what?" Balthazar managed to find his voice.

Spencer let out a pent up breath. "This wasn't so sudden, you know. She'd been developing it for a good few months now…some lung disorder… she never did trust the doctors… "

"But she looked so…"

Spencer shook his head. "Blake, she's a sorcerer. And she might not be as damned full of it as you are, but she has pride. You don't think she could weave a spell to keep her on her feet? Guess that could only hold out so long… but she took a bit of a turn after you left the other day, so I escorted her back home. Wasn't long after that…"

"And she told you?"

"Yes, she told me. I have actually been speaking with her, because that's what people do in this day and age when their friends! Or if they've got them running around on some God-forsaken, thousand year old errand! Maybe if you'd seen her a bit instead of just letting her do your dirty work she would have told you sooner! God!" He turned away and drew in a breath, holding a hand to his face. "I suppose you'd be used to this, huh Blake? Seen it a hundred times before…"

"I suppose…" Balthazar stared at Maggie's frozen form. He had seen death a hundred times before. It always seemed to come too quickly. But then that was a matter of time and perspective.

"That's what I thought. I don't know if I can still even consider you human you've lived so long, but I'll try and see if I can get this through your thick skull… She wasted the last years of her life helping you for nothing. She's not immortal. You might be, and you could live forever if that Grimhold stays shut, but not the rest of us, Blake! If you still think you can still find your Prime Merlinian, you should do it on your own! Don't waste the rest of our time, especially a wonderful woman like Maggie's. Well, bit late for that now…" he sniffed.

"Does she have any family?" Balthazar asked.

"I sent a message to her sister," Spencer snapped. "I don't know when she'll arrive. Perhaps you should be gone by then."

There was no reason why his presence should be any more upsetting to Maggie's sister than Spencer being here. It was Spencer who wanted him gone. But Balthazar saw no reason to argue. He reached out and grasped Maggie's cold fingers. "Goodbye, Maggie," he said quietly. He let her hand fall to the bedspread.


	4. Chapter 4

Balthazar didn't say goodbye to Spencer on the way out, and the man let him pass without comment. He didn't rush through the rain to the waiting car. He didn't quite remember even getting down there, but there he was sitting with hands gripped white-knuckled to the steering wheel.

His mind was churning over, almost too quickly for him to grasp at the fleeting thoughts. He put the vehicle into gear and moved off. Two streets away, he was starting to realise this was a bad idea. The roads were wet and he wasn't thinking clearly. He pulled the Phantom into a side street and turned off the engine. The growl of the engine died away to be replaced by the roar of the rain.

Balthazar stared out the windshield, the alleyway obscured by the rivulets of rain running down the glass. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Spencer was right; he had seen death a hundred times before. Had he seen so much that it had lost its meaning?

_"Did… did you lose a kid?"_

Percy's words came back to him. No, but everyone in the whole damn world were kids to him. And they all passed away in a heartbeat. Maybe he didn't have any right to waste any one else's time. This was his quest. It had already devoured more time than he was ever supposed to have possessed.

Maybe he had to do this alone. Maybe that was safer. He'd trudged through time alone. It couldn't be that much harder. But if he was having a mid-life crisis, if he had to go through all that time again? His hands had started to shake. Would his mind handle it? There was only so much space in a human mind, there was only so much it could remember. Even with his time-map which seemed to be keeping things in order. But he was losing it. Was his mind simply unable to cope with the time he'd already endured, and that was why it was falling apart?

And a thousand years more? What then?

_ "She's not immortal. You might be, and you could live forever if that Grimhold stays shut, but not the rest of us, Blake!"_

A statement of probabilities destined to come true the prophecy might be, but what if that premise was false? What if the prophecy relied on the probabilities coming true, and was not necessarily a given?

That could mean he truly could never find the Prime Merlinian.

If he never found the Prime Merlinian, how long would the spell Merlin had cast upon him last? Would he truly live forever?

Veronica would remain trapped in the Grimhold. She would still exist, as would he, but he could never see her again. And if her prison was bad enough as it was, it would be even worse if she could never escape it. He couldn't do that to her.

Balthazar gripped the steering wheel even tighter, but even this could not stop the shake that was spreading from his hands and down his arms. If the probabilities didn't align, say if mankind wiped itself out in another Great War, there most certainly would not be a Prime Merlinian. It was too easy for the probabilities to be tossed completely out of alignment, and he wondered why he had never seen this before.

He couldn't leave Veronica trapped.

If mankind wiped himself out, then, maybe, just maybe, he could crack open the Grimhold and release those Morganian's and Morgana herself. But that wouldn't free Veronica. Morgana would rule her body, and that would perhaps be worse than trapping her in the timeless void of the Grimhold.

He couldn't let her out. Not without the Prime Merlinian, who might never exist.

Balthazar could not get Veronica out of his mind, and a part of him didn't want to. At the same time that he could see her in his mind's eye as if she were right in front of him, he knew the likelihood was that he never would. A shudder ran through his whole body and he drew in a sob.

How many thousands of years would it take for him to forget her? It would be the last part of his mind to go, but it was still a human mind, not designed to last forever, and it would steadily overload and unravel with the passage of time. And he would spend the rest of his infinite existence alone. He couldn't. The shake took over his whole body and the man flopped forward against the steering wheel, gripping onto it as he fell apart.

* * *

Balthazar didn't know how much time had passed when he finally lifted his head. It was still raining and the sky was dark. He drew steady breaths and tried to settle his thudding heart. This was somewhat more successful than his previous attempts to calm down. The dam had finally broken, but Balthazar was under no disillusionment that his problems were over.

His mind had cleared enough for him to realise that living forever alone was not a forgone conclusion. But he had momentarily lost it, and that perhaps meant the last century or so had taken more of a toll than he realised. He wasn't losing it but he might well be teetering on the edge. He needed a break.

The Phantom started up with a low growl and Balthazar made his way back, slowly, to the shop. He would take a break, he decided. Maybe just a decade or two. The chances of him missing something were slim; the greater danger was that he'd fall further into the insecurity and madness that had briefly got the better of him, and then all would be lost. It was only when he reached the shop's front door and stepped out of the car that he realised he had intended to return the vehicle.

Balthazar turned back to the machine and let a hand rest on its bonnet. The metal was warm and when he concentrated he could feel the currents of magical energy running through it. The energy in an object would, over time, begin to resemble the energy of its owner. Already, the energy flow through the car was beginning to mirror his own, though perhaps it was less turbulent. It normally did not happen so quickly. But then, it had been witness to perhaps his most vulnerable moment in hundreds of year.

Balthazar contemplated what he was to do with the Phantom again, but then simply let out a sigh as his shoulders slumped. "I can't take you back, beautiful. You were there when I needed you."

He just needed a break. That was all. Then, once he was back on track he would begin his search in earnest once more.

* * *

All told, Balthazar's 'short break' ended up lasting a little over sixty years. It wasn't like he really noticed that it had taken longer than he had planned. The whole point of the exercise was that by the end of it he wasn't in danger of destroying everything he had worked for.

He didn't quite stop thinking of Veronica, he had his moments. He ended up burying the necklace he had intended to give her all those years ago in the basement of the shop. At least there it could not weigh on him. The Grimhold too, he locked away from his sight.

The calming techniques he had learnt all those years ago still would not quite work. Not consistently. Balthazar quickly learnt that perhaps he was just taking this whole thing too seriously. One day, he took a stroll down to one of the nearby parks. He had it in mind that perhaps the tendency of this generation of mankind to dismiss magic so easily might make the rigid rules he'd kept himself to over the years could be relaxed. A child's ball suddenly taking on a mind of its own and persistently escaping its young owner was not blamed on magic or ghosts, but on the wind, if anything. Similar pursuits could easily provide hours of entertainment, and they were a good distraction.

The Phantom he could not let go of, even as cars evolved and took on new shapes and it began to stick out more and more. This didn't bother him much either, and previously though he had tried to ensure his dress matched the current period, this did not seem such a priority either.

The most this ever seemed to be noticed was sometime in '76, when a couple of young men in a flash new muscle car pulled up beside him and inquired as to whether he'd be interested in a drag race, provided his own vehicle was capable of movement. The few seconds before the light had turned green had been enough for Balthazar to surreptitiously alter the other vehicle's engine. Just slightly. The muscle car had made a very sad sounding splutter and gone nowhere, much to the surprise of its occupants.

Balthazar knew that his long life had altered him and he would never be the same. But he did not have to let it rip him apart. Even if the only solution he seemed to settle on meant he would not consider himself just that little bit crazy. But a little bit was better than completely.

Even as these pursuits brought back some of his sanity, his failure to find the Prime Merlinian still weighed heavily upon him. A thousand years left you tired. And even after sixty years he found himself watching the children at play in the parks with a heavy heart, a part of his mind watching intently for any hint of magical ability, the other part expecting nothing.

So it was when that young boy walked into his shop around the turn of the century that Balthazar did not worry about what a test of Merlin's dragon ring would do to his own mood. He could handle the failure, though he knew it would weigh on him. But not enough to render a test worthless.

And that was when the dragon ring finally came alive and chose its new bearer.


End file.
